


The Receptionist

by MrsBlue



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Preacher 2nd season clips, Inspired by a Clip, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Stand Alone, What-If, a bit dark, a day in the life, minor cussing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsBlue/pseuds/MrsBlue
Summary: Inspired by clips on youtube of Preacher's season 2. Standalone story you don't even need to be familiar with Preacher.Please comment as this is my first post on the Archive. ^.^





	The Receptionist

She liked to go out for breakfast in the evenings, since she worked nights. 

Steak and eggs, french toast with powdered sugar, maybe an omelet with spinach and ricotta cheese. No coffee though, not ever. Not even when she was tired. Her work rarely required a lot of concentration or energy. Coffee would just make her jittery. 

It was okay if she fell asleep at work, she had napped on the sofa more than once. She was sure He knew, and as far as she could tell, He didn’t care. 

Work was below a tavern, hence the night hours. She waved to the staff setting up behind the bar and straightening tables as she entered the front door, then she made her way to the back, through a door marked ‘Employees Only’, around a corner, and up to a metal door marked ‘Basement - Not an Exit’. She pulled out her key and unlocked the door. It was heavy as she pulled it open and stepped through, making sure she heard it lock automatically behind her. 

Cement stairs and a dirty looking handrail led down, the smell of mildew in the air. Oddly enough, the rest of the basement didn’t smell like mildew. Not in her office or even the room with the shallow pool. She never asked why though, she had learned better than to ask questions. 

At the bottom of the stairs was another door, this one marked ‘Reception’. There was no lock and she let herself into her office, such as it was. It looked more like part of a flop house. Brown carpeting, stained and coming up in places. White paint on the walls dull and faded. To the left was a counter with a sink, a dish rack, and an electric kettle. There were a couple cupboards above, a mini fridge and trash can below. Next to that was a door to the bathroom. On the right side was a beat up sofa with its foam showing and a closet with folding doors. Various bathrobes hung in the closet, and it also held stacks of folding chairs, some towels, blankets, a pillow, and a first aid kit. At the back and opposite the office door was a table which served as her desk. On it was a phone, an old CD player, a digital clock, tissues, and the requisite cup of pens, pencils, markers, highlighters, and various paperclips. Beneath the table was a cardboard box containing books and CD’s, all hers. The nicest thing in the room was her chair, big and comfy. She’d bought it with her first paycheck. Before that she’d had to use one of the folding chairs. Behind the table desk and her chair hung a red curtain.  


There was no computer. She’d heard there used to be one, but the last receptionist liked to look at porn while on the job. She could understand why, since there simply wasn’t a lot to do. Most days nothing to do. However, He didn’t approve, so no computer or internet access.  


Luckily for her, she’d always been a bookworm. So most of her time in the office was spent reading. Occasionally she’d play music on the CD player, when the silence got to be too much. She’d fix herself something to eat or drink if she wanted, and use the toilet as needed. That summed up most of her days.  


She’d been reading a mystery novel for a few hours when the phone on her desk rang. It always startled her. In the years she’d been working there, the most the phone had ever rung was four times in a single month.  


Marking her place in the book with a pink paperclip, she answered the phone, “Reception.”  


She listened for a few moments.  


“Please hold.” She said, and after pressing the hold button, she picked up a second line and pressed the speed dial button marked with a capital ‘G’.  


Of course He already knew, He always knew. Often He’d simply answer the phone and tell her to show them in without her saying anything. But somedays, like today, He waited for her to speak.  


“Some people to see You, sir.” She told Him.  


After He responded, she went back to the first line and said, “Send them down.”  


She pulled out the speech. She came up with the idea after a few months on the job and had written it herself, carefully modified over time. She was happy with the current version and had it memorized, but she didn’t get to use it much, so she liked to make a quick review before each visit.  


After a couple minutes there was a knock on the door and Brodie, one of the tavern’s bouncers, came in with the people who wanted to see God.

 

Xxx

She looked them over, not just looking, but LOOKING with that little extra something He had put behind her eyes, which often made them ache. Having LOOKED she knew they were serious, not just here for a laugh. And there was nothing special about them, at least, nothing she hadn’t seen before. She’d seen a lot of people and not all of them human.  


“Thank you Brodie.” She said to the bouncer, who left and closed the door.  


Standing up, she began her speech.  


“There’s a process here, a simple three step process. Step one, I ask why you want to see God and you give me an answer which probably won’t be original. Step two, I warn you you’re going to be disappointed, that He is going to make you piss your pants, and you should reconsider. Then you’ll ignore me and insist on seeing Him anyways. Step three, I take you to see Him and when you get back, you’ll have pissed your pants and want to clean up. Understood?”  


They didn’t say anything, just shot nervous and confused glances between themselves.  


Speech now over, she asked them why they wanted to see God.  


“We have some questions we want answered.” One of them replied.  


She plucked a permanent marker out of the cup on her table desk and pulled back the red curtain. Written on the wall behind it were some words, each followed by various marks representing numbers. At the top was written ‘Questions/Answers’ and she added a mark to the multitude beside it. Below that was written ‘Justice, Righteous or Otherwise’, lower down was ‘Favors/Make a Deal’, and at the bottom was ‘Punch Him’ with only a single mark beside it.  


She put the cap back on the marker with a click.  


“He doesn’t answer questions, but He will look at you a certain way until you piss yourselves. You should spare yourselves the embarrassment. Won’t you please change your minds?” She was actually a little hopeful with the last part. Nobody had ever changed their minds, but she’d seen lots of people hesitate, so she hadn’t lost hope yet.  


Of course, they still wanted to see God.  


She shrugged and said, “Okay, take off your shoes and socks please.” Then sat down in her chair and began removing her own.  


They paused, but then followed suit.  


“You’ll want to strip and put on a robe.” She told them as she opened the closet door and pulled some bathrobes out for them.  


“Why?”  


She stepped up close to each of them and looked in their eyes. “Because you really will piss yourselves and it’s better to do so in a borrowed robe, then change into your own clothes, instead of the other way around.”  


The most sensible looking one took off their shirt and reached for a robe. She turned her back to give them privacy and picked at her fingernails.  


The sensible one spoke up when they were ready and gesturing to the words on the wall, asked, “So, who wanted to punch God?”  


“I did.” She replied truthfully with a small smile that didn’t stay long.  


She went into the closet then, and pushed against a corner of the back, opening the secret door. It always reminded her of Narnia, only with bathrobes instead of fur coats. And instead of leading to a forest in a magical land, there was a dimly lit hallway with a metal door at the end.  


Going through the door there were some steps leading down into a large room, everything was tiled and a shallow pool covered most of the floor. Another door was across the room, and a person had to go through the pool to reach it. It was only ankle deep, but that’s why she always asked them to take off their shoes and did the same herself.  


Carefully, she touched one of her bare feet to the water, it was solid this time, so she walked across. She never knew if He was going to let her walk on top of the water or slosh through it. There seemed no rhyme or reason, she figured He just did it to mess with her, as she explained to them when they asked. Their voices had filled with awe as they followed her, walking ankle deep themselves in the water behind.  


She opened the door and waved them in, closing it after them, then went back to the office.  


Their clothes were on the sofa and she was grateful they hadn’t just tossed them on the floor. She put fresh towels in the bathroom. Then going to the cupboards above the sink, she pulled out some glasses and a bottle of whiskey. She had chamomile tea for the more delicate ones, but these had looked like whiskey people. She also poured some pretzels into a bowl, since they’d picked up after themselves, and been sensible enough to put the robes on.  


Glancing at the marks on the wall, she sighed. He never answered questions, even the simplest ones. She’d made the mistake of testing Him once. Told Him she was going up to the tavern for some food and asked if He would like something too? He’d looked at her in that way of His. She was sure He knew the lack of innocence behind her question. Mercifully though, He’d looked away before she pissed herself, leaving the room without a word.  


Shaking her head, she sat down and picked up her book, flipping to the pink paperclip she’d used to mark her place.

 

Xxx

It wasn’t long before they came back. They held their robes closed tight, smelling only slightly of piss and shit. She supposed they had tried to wash up in the pool, which she suspected might be its true purpose, and made a mental note to have it cleaned.  


None of them looked at her.  


She went to the bathroom door and opened it. “There’s a shower and towels in here, you can leave the robes on the floor.” Then she turned her chair to the wall and sat back down with her book, giving them privacy again.  


After they had come out and almost finished dressing themselves, she hit the phone’s speed dial button marked ‘Tavern’ and asked for Brodie to please come down.  


She stood and started pouring the whiskey, offering the pretzels too. They accepted with quiet gratitude. She poured another whiskey when Brodie arrived and told them they could sit for a bit.  


Once they were ready to leave, Brodie showed them out.  


She rinsed the glasses and thought about what to do next. She’d have to check for a trail as it were, between the bathroom and the pool, cleaning as needed. After that, she’d call the pool man. Then she’d put the used robes in a trash bag and take them to the launders, who’d either wash them or burn them.  


She never said ‘I told you so’.  


She’d pissed herself the first time she met Him too. Then He had let her punch Him, which was generous, before He made her piss herself again. Which had taken most of the satisfaction out of it.  


Still though, He’d offered her a simple enough job afterwards, and the pay was good.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This is my second fanfic ever and my first posting on the Archive. Please provide feedback, even it's just a few words. ^.^


End file.
